


make no mistake of the promise I made

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Malex Week 2020, Near Future, romance novelist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25310917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Max has been holding down a side gig for a decade writing romance novels, but now that he's breaching into a new market, he needs Michael's help. Suffice to say, Michael is thrilled with the news.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 40
Kudos: 161





	make no mistake of the promise I made

**Author's Note:**

> Crystal! Thank you Crystal for the beta!
> 
> Day 4 - Malex Week - Free Day

It starts with a strange phone call in the middle of the night.

Michael rubs at his eyes and stares at his phone on the offending nightstand. Alex groans when Michael reaches over him to pick it up, protesting that some people need their beauty sleep. Then, he pokes Michael to imply that it isn’t _him_ who needs the sleep and certain curly-haired aliens will get wrinkles. His bitchy nighttime insults exhausted, Alex is soon back to sleep, but Michael has his suddenly-silent phone in hand.

_1 Missed Call_

It’s from Max.

Groaning, Michael flops back against the bed, rubbing his eyes. It’s not the first time that Max has called in the middle of the night, but his sleeping habits and his relationship are going to get strained if he doesn’t do something about it. Creeping out of bed, he slides on a pair of Alex’s warm slippers and closes the bedroom door gently behind him to escape to quieter parts of the house.

“What the hell, Max, it’s 1AM,” Michael hisses once he gets to the study.

“Michael?”

“No, the Tooth Fairy. _Yes_ , Michael! You called me,” he reminds him. “Look, I know you’re used to the night shift at the Pony, but it’s been two years since you picked it up, and you should know better than to call me in the middle of the night. I’m not giving Alex any reasons to walk away this time,” he says, a warning, though he knows Alex won’t bolt just because Max has been calling in the middle of the night.

Max sounds okay, so this isn’t the kind of emergency he has to rush out for.

“I didn’t realize what time it was, I’ve been working.”

Michael sighs and settles into the armchair, close to where Faith (their beagle) is sleeping. “Something exciting at the Pony you need to share with me?”

“...it’s my … other job.”

That’s news to Michael.

“What other job?” he asks suspiciously, wondering if Isobel knows about it. Is this something he’s missed during pod squad meetings?

Then again, it’s not like he submits full resumes to Max so he can keep up to date on his career, even though Max would probably love that. Michael figures it’s probably something boring. Maybe Max picked up some work as a security consultant or private investigation work that Jenna tossed his way.

“I’ve been writing novels.”

Or Max has secretly been pursuing his dreams, which is way more than Michael can say about himself.

“Max, that’s incredible,” Michael praises, shifting the phone to the other ear, not sure why this is leading to a 1AM phone call, but maybe it really is the night owl thing. “Congrats, man, how long have you been doing it!”

“Uh, about ten years.”

So, not a new hobby, then.

“Max,” Michael says, drawing out his name into nearly three syllables, ever the teasing little shit of a sibling he can be. “What kind of novels are you writing and why are you holding out on us?”

Why is it only coming up now, is what he needs to know?

“When I was going to the academy, I needed an outlet and some extra cash.” Max is mumbling, doing that thing he does where he ducks his head down and mumble-sprints through his explanation like somehow Michael will miss it, if he does. Even over the phone, Michael can tell he’s doing it. “So I started to write romance novels. It was easy and I could usually write one in a few weeks, and I had a really good inspiration, with Liz.” He’s speeding up, now, his voice getting faster, like Michael can’t cut him off if he hurries through his explanation. “It paid decently enough, though not enough to make a living, so I haven’t stopped.”

He knows Alex is sleeping. He knows he shouldn’t be such an ass, but Michael cackles loudly until the dog wakes up and he has to lean down and rub her ears to try and soothe her back to sleep. Wheezing, he takes in a deep breath to settle himself.

“Wait, hold on a minute, hold on,” he gets out, in between cackling breaths. “You’re telling me that your side gig is writing romance novels? What’s the pen name?” No, that’s not the more pressing thing, because the explanation is one thing; Max’s sudden need to talk to Michael is another. “Is this why you’re calling me in the middle of the night?”

Max sighs, the sound seemingly endless.

“I need your help.”

“Max,” Michael says. “I’m _thrilled_. Is it my oral talents that you want recorded for posterity or…”

“Jesus, Michael, stop,” Max cuts him off. “Look, my agent wants me to diversify into a different market since he thinks there’s some untapped potential for me to sell more books. Men loving other men,” he manages, and though it sounds like he’s performing cartwheels to get the words out, he does. “I need your advice on logistics, and um…”

It’s a shame they’re having this call at night, because Michael would kill to see the way Max is blushing.

“You’re calling me, huh? Here I would’ve thought maybe you would’ve asked Valenti for the help. You’re bros these days, I thought.” Michael can hear the put-upon sigh over the line, but he’s living for the duress he’s making Max endure.

“Michael,” Max groans. “Do I need to beg?”

It’d be fun if he did, but the thing is, Michael is desperately interested in this whole _thing_ , and if he pisses off Max too much, he’ll go and ask Alex for help or something. Alex, being the more mature one (or the one way more eager to earn Max’s approval) would probably even help without a second question.

He can’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

”I’ll do it. On two conditions.”

There’s a long pause, like Max is genuinely weighing the thought of asking Valenti for help instead. “What?”

“You send me some copies of the book that I’m going to so lovingly help with, and you tell me your pen name, so I can go buy every single book and find out exactly what it is about Liz that you enjoy so much.”

He waits, patiently, for the reply. For a few moments, there’s nothing, and Michael wonders if Max is debating finding someone else to help. Finally, Max relents with a mumbling over the line.

“Nope, didn’t hear that.”

“I said, _fine_!” Max inhales, and then as he pushes the breath out, adds, “The pen name is Eliot Amor. Can you please go to bed now? I’ll talk to you in the morning. I just need you to review some scenes to make sure what I wrote is physically possible, that’s it. The manuscript is nearly done, you’ll give me edits, and then we _never_ , not ever have to talk about this again.”

“What, so I’m not invited to the book launch?”

The click of Max hanging up is his response to that.

Michael curls his cell phone to his chest, still not sure he’s over how gleefully thrilled he is with this new discovery. He bends down to pat Faith a few more times, brushing a kiss to her furry head before he heads back to the bedroom, cautiously tip-toeing his way back under the covers in an attempt to let Alex sleep.

It’s a futile exercise, seeing as the minute Michael slides back in, Alex lets out a content noise like he’s glad his space heater is back.

“What was that about?” Alex asks sleepily, wriggling back into Michael’s warmth.

Michael knows that he shouldn’t tease Max about this. It’s great that he’s got some side-income and that he’s doing well for himself, but it’s just the kind of thing that Michael knows he gets to torture Max with.

Still, it’s the middle of the night, and Alex is so sweet when he’s soft and sleepy like this. He brushes a kiss to Alex’s temple, smoothing his hair back as he pulls the covers back up.

“Brotherly advice,” is all he says, deciding he’ll give Alex the full story in the morning. “Poor Max just doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

* * *

Five weeks later, Michael’s distracted from his ship sketches by glancing at his phone and seeing a missed text from Max.

_Delivery arriving today -- enjoy your story._

Michael peers out to the porch to see a box waiting for him, feeling a thrill go through him. “Alex!” he calls back to the kitchen. “They’re here!” he says gleefully, throwing open the front door so he can seize the box and dive in.

Inside the box, Michael finds five copies inside of a decently-sized novel, entitled _Long Hard Ride_. Michael flips the book over to read the summary on the back about an Air Force captain, a cowboy, and their rocky love story. Then, he turns it back over to see the design on the cover. “Huh,” is all he says. “He even captured your great ass,” he says gleefully as he hands Alex a copy of _their_ book. “Would’ve loved to be a fly on the wall when he talked to his designer about that one.”

Alex picks one up, not as amused by the cover. He’s more intent on the details inside, settling on their porch swing to start skimming through the details. The page turning starts to slow, which makes Michael think Alex is actually reading it instead of doing what Michael is (skipping right to the sex scene to see if his suggestions made it in).

They did.

All of them -- including the part Michael insisted go in, which involved his mouth and a nifty trick where he could curl it in _just_ the right way, at just the right time. He can only imagine Max’s suffering frustration at having to type in those words.

“Have you read this, Michael?”

“Just the pages Max sent me to review,” Michael replies absently, flipping through the book to find the next sex scene he’d helped with.

“You know it’s us, right?”

“The cover?” Michael flips back to it and scoffs when he sees the black cowboy hat on top of the curly-haired cowboy. “Yeah, he wasn’t exactly subtle there, was he?”

“Michael,” Alex says, his thumb dug into the pages of the book, turning it towards Michael.

He glances up briefly, but his attention sticks when he reads the words.

> _“I’ll never look away from you,” pledged Emmett as he stared balefully at his true love while he stood before the red and purple-inked sunset, the tumbleweeds from the ranch drifting past him. It was as if his confession had cleared not only the landscape of his war torn heart, but also the landscape around them, until everything was refreshed and anew for this fresh start, like the rain after a storm, clean and new._
> 
> _He stepped down from the creaky porch of the house he’d built for his soulmate, walking towards that lean, tall figure looming on his driveway. He was only steps away from touching the man he’d been denied for so long, kept apart by Lance’s father’s hatred, and every single atom and iota within him yearned for one thing._
> 
> _He needed to kiss this man._

Well, that tells him two things.

One, Max has definitely caught up on his and Alex’s story right down to the details.

And two, god damn, this book is gonna be great, despite the purple prose and Max’s heavy-handed style.

“Put some popcorn on,” Michael instructs, needing to read this _immediately_. “Time to find out what Max thinks happened between us,” he says, watching as Alex shakes his head ruefully, heading inside.

This is how Michael knows Alex loves him -- as Michael is picking up the box of books, he hears the microwave going and popcorn starting to go off.

That’s his man, all right.

Before Michael joins him to go over the thrilling details of Max’s outside-in look at their relationship, he needs to check on one thing.

He skips to the last few pages, a little scared about what Max might think of his and Alex’s chances of a happy future together.

Michael doesn’t need to worry.

There, on the last page is the confirmation Michael needs.

> _With Lance’s days in the Air Force behind him and his father dealt with, he could finally come home to the one place he knew was always waiting for him -- and there, Emmett was, eager to welcome him back into his arms, his life, and his heart. Their past was a rocky thing, unsettled and murky, but these two men had worked through that to give themselves a fresh start._
> 
> _“Welcome home,” said Emmett, catching Lance with a kiss that felt like it might stop the spinning of the Earth, bring down the stars from the sky, and make envious famous lovers who wished to be kissed like the tangle of their lips together._
> 
> _“You’re here,” Lance agreed, stepping towards him as he melted into his arms, in the place where he belonged. “I’m never going anywhere.”_

Max thinks they’re going to be just fine, which is the best approval that he could ever give Michael.

“Hey! Are you coming?” calls Alex. “This popcorn isn’t eating itself and I need to read about what Max Evans thinks my flirting game looks like!”

Flipping the book shut, Michael clutches it tight against his chest as if he could stop his fast-beating heart. “Coming,” he agrees, and heads inside his home, knowing that Max got plenty right, but one thing more than anything is true.

Michael is home, and he’s not going anywhere.


End file.
